


don't you know (i'm no good for you)

by usuallysunny



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Episode: s11e05 Mac & Dennis Move to the Suburbs, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, mental health
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-15 00:28:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18063113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/usuallysunny/pseuds/usuallysunny
Summary: Dennis slips into Mac's bed just after three, brought together by a noisy pool pump and the chirp of a smoke detector low on batteries.The rules are different in the suburbs.





	don't you know (i'm no good for you)

 

Dennis slips into Mac's bed just after three, brought together by a noisy pool pump and the chirp of a smoke detector low on batteries.

He stays quiet, tries not to make a sound, as he lifts the covers and rests his head on the pillow. He closes his eyes and the room spins and unsettling images sear behind his vision. His mind feels fractured, slipping into insanity, and he blames the monotony of the suburbs.

 _That's all it is_ , he convinces himself, as Dee chokes on her own blood and Frank clutches at his heart that's finally given out. The images get worse, flickering faster until all he sees is red, and his breath feels shallow in his chest. His knuckles turn white as he grips at the sheets like he's at risk of sinking and falling away, vanishing into the dark.

"Dennis?"

The voice sounds far away, like he's under water, and it takes a moment for him to blink back to reality.

He turns his head slowly, his eyes finding Mac's, glazed blue connecting with confused brown.

"Dude… what are you doing?"

Mac's voice is groggy, heavy with sleep, and Dennis watches him rub at his eyes.

Dennis doesn't speak, can't speak, his entire vocabulary caught in his throat. His mind floods and he can't find the words – which is strange, considering his almost superhuman intellect and master manipulation skills. Normally he'd be spinning the most perfect lie by now, playing Mac like a fiddle, like a lion who toys with its prey before ripping it apart.

Now, words burn in his chest but he can't find a way to get them out.

He decides not to think about it at all. He decides not to think about how angry he is all the time, how he ran out of those pills a month ago and never bothered to get any more. He  _won't_  think about the rest of the gang or how he just wanted to choke the life out of Wally earlier today or that email he still hasn't opened from North Dakota, the one with a picture of a little boy attached.

He doesn't think at all. Mac props himself up on his elbows, one eyebrow arched, and Dennis just stares at him for a beat before he wraps his hand around his neck and pulls his mouth to his.

He doesn't know why. He doesn't know much of anything these days. He just does it, because even though he hates Mac, he's the only one who makes him feel better too.

Predictably, Mac jerks back in surprise.

"What the fuck, dude?!"

Dennis grimaces, the sound as irritating to him as a game show buzzer. At the same time, he's jealous of it. Jesus Christ, he's jealous of  _Mac._ Of how deeply he feels every emotion that rockets through his body - of those stupid, random bursts of energy. Dennis wishes he could feel that deeply; his capacity for warmth, for excitement, has long been burned out of him.

But he doesn't have time for half-hearted denials, to wait for Mac to eventually come around once his anger has spiked and ebbed. He knows Mac worships him; it's an obsession he's carefully cultivated for years. Now, he's ready to collect.

"Please."

He finally whispers. His voice is hoarse and his throat burns. Mac's eyes widen, like he's never heard him say the word, and his gaze flickers to his mouth.

His hand wraps around Mac's neck again and he tugs him closer.

"Please," he says it again, like the first one was practice, and he doesn't know what he's begging for. He grabs Mac's wrist and the skin is searing under his fingers. He briefly wonders whether he always runs this hot, before he places the hand on his crotch, "Please, Mac. Just. Touch me."

He registers the movement of Mac's adam's apple as he swallows.

"Den, I—" he looks lost, eyes glassy and desperate, but his hand is still on Dennis' dick, "I don't—"

"You don't have to."

Dennis doesn't understand either so he just leans forward and closes the gap again. For a moment, Mac is frozen as Dennis' mouth moves against his. He kisses him once, twice, three times in succession before deepening it, his tongue sweeping over his bottom lip.

Slowly, Mac's mouth begins to move. He kisses him back and Dennis swallows his moan of submission.

Dennis' head slants as he deepens the kiss, both hands now cupping Mac's face. His licks inside the hot cavern of Mac's mouth as they breathe through their noses. Mac's hands are trembling and he's moving too fast, not disconnecting from Dennis' mouth as he hastily pulls his sweats down. They pool at his ankles and he kicks them off, before Dennis rolls him onto his back.

He grabs Mac's wrists, pinning them above his head with one of his hands. He wants to slow him down, wants some goddamn finesse. He's  _Dennis Reynolds,_ after all. He uses his other hand to pull down his own sweats and suddenly they're naked and Dennis is surprised he's hard - it's been a while since that happened naturally.

Mac's hard too, but that's less surprising, and his hips buck desperately.

Dennis lets go of his hands and Mac's too fast again, his movements laced with desperation and self-hatred and so much pain. He probably wants it over with, wants to move past it before it's even happened, so he can say sorry to a God Dennis knows doesn't give a shit about him.

Dennis dips down and kisses him again, wanting him to see he's the only God he needs. It's  _his_  name he should be praying to.

He brings his hips down and suddenly their cocks are rubbing against each other, aided by the heat and pre-cum and sweat. They rut against each other, open mouths sliding but never quite connecting. Their pants dance in the tiny space of air between them and the atmosphere blisters, exploding into heat.

Mac's hand is still shaking when it travels to Dennis' erection. He takes it in his hand and gives it a few unsure strokes. Dennis' heavy groan pierces the silence, joining the white noise of the broken pool pump and smoke detector in the background.

Mac's still nervous and hesitant, still looking like he might cry, so Dennis wraps his hand around his on his dick and urges him to move faster. He balances his weight on the other hand and tips his head back, their hands moving together, pumping his cock.

When he's confident Mac's getting it, he lets go, placing his other hand next to Mac's head and caging him in. Mac squeezes and pumps him faster, his mouth slack, an expression akin to awe flashing across his features.

"Oh fuck," Dennis moans, head tipping back, "That's it—"

"Please don't talk." Mac pleads in a whisper, "Just fucking—don't."

Dennis glances down at him and his jaw is set, clenched in a strong line.  _Idiot,_ he thinks.  _What a stupid, naïve baby._ Mac's so stupid, he thinks if they don't talk, this never happened. Like when a tree falls down in a forest but no-one's around to hear it, did it really happen? So, Mac's going to stay silent and that means he's straight and badass and a dude's never made him cum.

Not that he would understand that analogy - the  _stupid, stupid idiot._

This just makes Dennis all the more determined to ruin him. He's frustrated now, that Mac won't mould into quite the shape Dennis wants him in.

Unlike Mac, Dennis is willing to embrace all aspects of his sexuality. He knows it's a spectrum. Sometimes he isn't gay or straight or anything at all; sometimes he just wants to hurt someone. Who better than the one person who worships him the most?

So he bats Mac's hand away and humps against him again, cocks sliding, hot and heavy, and buries his face in his neck. Mac whimpers like the dog he is, always desperate for scraps of his attention, as Dennis plants hot, open-mouthed kisses down the length of his neck.

He licks a hot stripe up to his ear and captures the lobe between his teeth.

When he finally kisses him again, Mac is practically shaking. He never could control himself the way Dennis can. He always burns too hot, too bright.

"Let me fuck you," Dennis pants into his mouth – and he's not asking nicely. When does he ever?

Mac's eyes widen, glistening with barely restrained tears.

"I'm not gay."

He clings steadfastly to his denial, his anger flaring at the very accusation (that Dennis hasn't even made). He uses it as his shield, an armour to protect him from the world and  _him_.

"Whatever, dude," Dennis' voice is cold and demanding as he fights the urge to roll his eyes, "Who gives a shit? It's no-one's fucking business but ours."

Dennis sees the moment he gives in, reads it on his face. He's always been pathetically easy to read, to manipulate. His desperation to be loved, to be good, has always been his biggest downfall.

Dennis smells weakness like blood in the water.

He slips his index and middle fingers in his mouth, sucking on them without breaking heated eye contact. He watches Mac's breath hitch as he transfers the fingers to his mouth, spit mingling and slicking the digits.

Mac's eyes are darkened, pupils blown to black, as Dennis pulls his fingers out and finds Mac's ass.

His carefully cultivated  _finesse –_ the thing that makes Mac roll his eyes because he takes  _so goddamn long –_ flies out the window as he pushes both digits inside the ring of muscle. Mac keens against him, brows knitting together, as a heavy moan escapes his lips.

Dennis scissors his fingers, pushing through the small resistance he finds there. He's not sure if Mac's had gay sex before, whether his angry walls of resistance have ever been knocked down in a moment of weakness in one of the Rainbow's back rooms, but he's seen his exercise bike and he knows he can take it.

He's stunned by his own eagerness, can't remember the last time he wanted it so bad, and he reaches over for the small bottle of lube he knows Mac keeps in the nightstand. He's pleasantly surprised to find one lone condom there and he slips it on because he's always safe and prepared and Mac's a slut.

He squirts some lube on his fingers and gets his dick even wetter, before he lines himself up with Mac's entrance. He pushes in slowly and Mac's staring up at him like the God he is, all big eyed and teary.

He looks hypnotised, adoring and in awe, and it's almost too much for Dennis. It's too bright, too intense, kind of like looking at the sun. So, he turns his face away and pounds his hips faster.

Mac's hot and wet and tight. Dennis grits his teeth, his jaw clenching, and Mac swallows his moan of surprise when he kisses him again.

At the sweep of Mac's surprisingly talented tongue, Dennis' mind floods. The sensations are too intense, almost like a sensory overload after feeling nothing for so long. The edges of that hole inside him feel like they're creeping inwards, his heart folding in half, then half again, until he can't breathe.

"Faster," Mac pleads, putting as much effort into his task of staying quiet as he does everything else, "God _damn_ it, Dennis. Fuck me harder."

Dennis snarls his approval, ramming into his tight hole with heavier thrusts. The obscene sounds of skin slapping on skin stokes his desire and he suddenly feels fragile - weak.

Mac is stronger than everyone thinks he is. He's survived his own internalised homophobia, his father's hatred of him, his mother's indifference to him, even the Gang's occasional dislike of him. Mac always survives. If things were to go wrong, Mac would have the strength to walk away from this, relatively unscathed.

Dennis wouldn't be able to. He thinks if he did ever walk away, he'd probably end up coming back. Mac has always been his constant, the one person who's never given up on him, who cares about him and just always, always wants to be near him. Dennis isn't as strong as people think he is.

If Dennis could feel things, he's pretty sure he would feel them for Mac.

He suddenly feels like he's sinking, like the ground is turning to quicksand beneath his feet, and he needs Mac to bring him back to Earth.

"Tell me you love me," he demands because he's desperate and he's never heard that before.

Mac's moan is almost a sob and he's too fucked out, too blissed, to argue.

"I've always loved you."

It's a whisper of surrender, a cathartic release of decades of repressed feeling.

It's strange but all the dirty words that burn on the tip of his tongue… all the sordid memories of dark past experiences… none of them are as hot to Dennis as those words. Mac comes first because Mac will always come first, a guttural groan falling from his lips as he fists ropes of white cum onto his stomach, but Dennis isn't far behind.

He spills everything into him. All the pain, all the mixed feelings of emptiness and anger, all the tears he can never bring himself to cry, he gives to Mac. In-fact, he cums so hard, he's almost delirious.

When the month here is over and the bet is won, they'll both probably pretend this never happened. Dennis will go back to the man he was – cold, cruel, calculating. Mac might even lash out, might attack him for making him submit to what he's known deep down all along. He'll probably see it as the biggest betrayal, one that can't be glossed over with " _just move past it"._

Maybe it'll be the end of them. Maybe it won't. Either way, Dennis doesn't care.

The bar and the Gang are far away now, outside of the bubble, the new world they've created in the suburbs.

The rules are different here.


End file.
